My “journey” with Alzheimer’s started with my mother, Beulah Baum. She died from Alzheimer’s in 1996 at age 75. We knew this because of the autopsy. An autopsy is the only definitive diagnosis of Alzheimer’s and I always tell people that if they suspect one of their parents has died or is dying as a result of Alzheimer’s insist on an autopsy.
Back to Beulah.
She was an adventurous soul. She was the one who would organize the reunions, all the first communions—all the big events. She loved to travel. She was the only nurse in my family and even the neighborhood. She was always called upon. If there was a mental health problem nearby or even a physical problem, they called mom before they called a doctor.
Her philosophy was that you will always regret more what you didn't do out of fear, what you didn't risk doing than doing things and failing. So go ahead and be out there.
We would have long hours together, picking berries. She would tell me that she wished she learned to fly a plane.
She began to show early signs of Alzheimer's in her early fifties. Her penmanship changed. Mobility became difficult for her. It became harder for her to walk. Once we started home health care for her the nurses would compete as to who would get to visit Beulah and to help her. She was the wonderful smiley person even when she couldn't speak anymore.
But even though she couldn’t speak her face still lit up when one of us kids walked into the room.
With such a big family we usually weren't alone but I happened to be in the front room where we had her hospital bed. I was the only one there with her. And I thought I heard a voice coming in from the kitchen door. And that voice said “Mary Kay.” I figured it was one of my aunts because it sounded like my mother. And I went out there to see who was coming by to visit. And there was nobody there. This happened twice. Almost immediately, I felt this relief. To hear my name in what seemed to be her voice made me feel like she was no longer stuck in that body. And that we shouldn't worry about her suffering pain.
She died the next day.